Since the December kickoff, the congressional candidates in the 50th District, at least those with a prayer of winning, have been playing it safe to the point of British gentility.

The campaign's unofficial theme song could be lifted from the classic musical, “The King and I”:

Getting to know you,
Getting to know all about you.
Getting to like you,
Getting to hope you like me.

Thus far, Emily Post could smile kindly on the candidates' impeccable manners, at table and at debate. So very likable.

Covering the race to April 11's special primary election has been akin to listening to a celestial choir singing its own praises. About as bruising (and stimulating) as a game of beanbag.

We've heard so many grandiose promises: to personally restore the Republican Party to Reaganesque heights; to single-handedly clean up the corruption in Congress; to “solve” the illegal immigration crisis.

(Earth to Candidates: Unless you're Brian Bilbray, who has six years of accrued House seniority, you'll be a lowly freshman representative with the clout of a featherweight with mono.)

But just when the political junkies are about to nod into narcolepsy, looky here.

As the absentee ballots are hitting the 50th's mailboxes – it's been estimated that maybe half of the votes will be mailed in – the testosterone level of the campaign is spiking.

Can swift boats be far behind?

Finally, a candidate who's obviously feeling the pressure of possible defeat has thrown a grenade into the Ralph Lauren garden party.

It may not be a devastating attack on a front-runner's character – according to a recent voter poll paid for by the Sycuan Band of Indians, Bilbray is leading the GOP pack – but it's at least something shocking and awful.

It's been all quiet on the 50th's front. Thankfully, no longer.

In a spectacular – or desperate? – bid to separate himself from the 13 other Republicans, state Sen. Bill Morrow has declared himself the champion of a medical procedure you don't hear discussed much in polite society.

Castration.

Sort of grabs your attention, doesn't it?

Before you entertain visions of child rapists being physically gelded en masse, a little context.

Ten years ago, California was the first state to pass a law requiring chemical castration of repeat child molesters. Other states, including Florida and Texas, followed suit.

To the chagrin of some, judges have rarely ordered the libido-depressing treatment. Many experts believe its utility is oversold. Sex offenders can stop taking Depo-Provera, a synthetic female hormone that reduces testosterone levels in men. Or their satanic urges can stem from sadism, not sexual desire. In other words, chemical castration is not a permanent, sure-fire fix.

But put all that awkward real-world stuff aside. Instead, focus on the burning rage that child molesters arouse inside of us. Think of what we'd all like to do to these creeps.

In Morrow's shock-and-awe mailer, we see a photograph of a traumatized preteen girl, her face buried in her arms and legs. All she has to comfort her is a stuffed panda bear. The words on the wall behind the girl hit you like gang graffiti: “Sexual Offender”; “Abuse”; “Child Pornography”; “MEGAN'S LAW”; “JESSICA'S LAW.”

Below the photo, in large block print, is a quotation from Bill Morrow: “I pray we will never have to name a law after another murdered child.”

On the next page, Morrow's statement continues: “As a father, I think we need to throw the book at child rapists. Current law calls for chemical castration after the second time an offender rapes a child. That's not tough enough. I think that someone who rapes a child should be CHEMICALLY CASTRATED after the first time and I've introduced legislation to do just that.”

It doesn't take a Madison Avenue whiz to figure out what's going on here.

Morrow is hoping to surf the wave of Jessica's Law, the statewide initiative that has collected more than 700,000 signatures and is a slam-dunk to qualify for the November ballot.

Locally, the timing couldn't be better. Every day, it seems, we learn more about the sordid underworld that preys on children. The agony of Children's Hospital is a perfect lightning rod.

California may be a blue state in most respects, but it's deep-red when it comes to punishing criminals. Twelve years ago, the three-strikes law passed with more than 70 percent of the vote. Jessica's Law, which cracks down on child rapists, will probably hit a comparable number.

To ride the monster wave, Morrow had to find a symbol that he can own. It's not enough to be a fervent sponsor of Jessica's Law – all the candidates will express support. No, Morrow had to go to the cutting edge. He had to pull out a symbolic knife and shock a large number of potential voters to their core values.

Soon enough, we'll find out how far other Republicans are willing to plunge to finish first in the special April 11 primary. There's no prize for second, third or fourth, which is where nice guys often finish.

The theme song for the campaign's final days? I'd nominate an old Talking Heads song:

Hold tight wait till the party's over.
Hold tight we're in for nasty weather.
There has got to be a way.
Burning down the House.